


If The Day Comes (We Shall See).

by Markirya



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Charlie's childhood memory, Childhood Memories, Dragons, I meant Metaphorical Dragons, M/M, Narcissa is dead, Not set in Romania, Ravenclaw Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markirya/pseuds/Markirya
Summary: "If the day comes, you should go on adventures, far away, across every single ocean. Would you like that?"Somehow, it felt like a promise. Little Charlie was sure he was now part of something big and important. Though he couldn't understand the whole of it, his tummy told him it was right and good, and he felt excited. He would love that Dragon, and have fun and adventures. And not lay eggs. He was not going to be  alone anymore.Draco thanked Mother for Charles Weasley.





	If The Day Comes (We Shall See).

**Author's Note:**

> So, I suck, I know. Under construction #1 is still under construction because I'm terrible. In fact, this whole story started out as a part of a scene of UC#1 but it just... got out of hand. *sigh* Hence, Bippy is back. Fics are completely unrelated, though.  
> Hope you enjoy! (ps: I own nothing except Bippy, and only partly, as House Elves are JKR's).-

* * *

   


      Little Charlie Weasley was looking through the Magical Creatures section at Flourish and Blott's.  
Draco could see that even as a child, this Weasley had red hair that was darker than that of his thousands of siblings, big blue eyes and a face full of freckles. Grudgingly, Draco had to admit he'd been a really cute baby.  
He was brought out of his musings by the familiar flash of hair that announced Lucius Malfoy had come into the picture. Something in Draco ached at the youth in Father's features, the pride in his stance, disdain pure and cruel, not tinged by fear for a second.  
  
Little Charlie remembered Lucius as a huge, intimidating figure, that loomed over him. Still, little Charlie was happy that an adult was here, who could maybe grab the book he wanted that was a bit too high. However, the man just looked at him with an ugly face, and it made little Charlie scared, so he decided he'd rather just keep on trying on his own. Draco saw him grab the shelf with tiny freckled hands and muster all his strength and stood on tiptoes. Just when he was finally about to reach the book, Draco caught a movement from the side of his eye, and was shocked to see Father taking out the book from the shelf. Draco couldn't believe Lucius would do such a thing for whom he considered a blood traitor. Unthinkable. Why would Weasley- Charles want to show him this, and why now? It was Mother's funeral after all.  
Then everything fell into place, and Draco felt like the world was back on its axis, though it left a bitter aftertaste at the back of his throat. He stared as Father sneered at the kid below him and placed the book on the top shelf of that case, looked at little Charlie with disgust and went on his way.  
  
Draco took his head out of the Pensieve and leveled the fiercest glare he could manage at the redhead. His voice was ice-cold.  
"If this is what you came to show me, Weasley, I refuse to play along anymore. Do you really think you can, today of all-"  
"No! wait, look. I swear I'm not trying to mess with you. Your- look. I'm not so petty, believe it or not", Charlie was earnest, and however hard he stared, he couldn't see even a hint of deceit in the man's intense gaze.  
"Fine." he finally conceded. Draco hated himself for having done it, but if this was really a memory of Mother… "I will give you a single opportunity, Charles, but if you are mocking me, I _swear_ you will dearly regret it."  
  
His fury had given way to a bit of confusion when Weasley's eyes had gone huge and bright, and he was looking at him as though he was something quite rare. It was more than slightly unnerving. Had it been the threat? No, if he recalled correctly, it was the use of his full name what had triggered the strange reaction. Huh, maybe he hated it.    
He gestured for Weasley to go on in first, taking a moment to steel his nerves. He couldn't believe he'd let Weasley convince him of sticking his head in a Pensieve with him. However, if the man was telling the truth, he'd get to see Mother again, as young as Lucius had looked. Draco was probably nothing but a baby, if he had even been alive.

He took a deep, fortifying- and not excited- breath and pushed his head into the swirling silver water.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
       Little Charlie couldn't understand what had just happened. Was he being punished? Had he been bad? He could barely see the book anymore, it was so far up.  
Draco could see the child's lips quivering, taking gulping breaths to avoid crying. Little Charlie told himself in low, harsh tones that he was no longer a baby, so he shouldn't cry. Then, he heard  soft footsteps approaching and he quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeves; he didn't want the mean man to see him crying. Instead, he saw a beautiful lady with similar bright hair, and blue eyes that were lighter than his. She wasn't smiling, but her eyes were kind. She put a finger to her lips, and Charlie nodded enthusiastically that he would be quiet; he liked the pretty lady, even when she was fat. No, she wasn't fat, she looked like Mum did, when he had Fred and George, but smaller.  
"Excuse me, are-" the woman frowned at him and little Charlie remembered he had to be quiet. The lady reached towards the bookshelf and grabbed the book the mean man had hidden from him. Little Charlie felt afraid again. This was a really beautiful woman, like a doll, she was tall and pale and she didn't have a single freckle, not covered in dots like him, was she going to take the book away too?  
No, she leaned towards little Charlie and offered it to him, and she smiled at him, and then he was so happy he wanted to hug her, but she didn't know him. She would probably not like it and get angry, and he wanted her to think of him as a good boy.  
  
Little Charlie smiled a huge, toothy smile and received the book, placing it next to the other two he wanted to look at, find the one with the best pictures so his Mum would buy it for him as she'd promised.  
"Thank you very much… um, I don't know your name." Little Charlie remembered to whisper, but he bit his lip, hoping he hadn't offended her.  
"Narcissa."  
"Like the flower? My mum has flowers called like that in her garden."  
"Yes, as the flower."  
"That's a really cool name. You're a cool lady, and, um, very pretty… um, my name is Charlie. I- um, I don't think it means anything." he fumbled with his words.  
"You should not mumble at your age any longer; otherwise, you seem to be a nice young man." Little Charlie blushed bright red and eyes widened, equal parts chastised and proud to have been finally recognised as a big boy.  
  
Suddenly shy, he barely managed not to mumble.  
"But I have freckles and red hair, and my friends say it's weird."  
The nice lady, Narcissa, read the titles of the books little Charlie had chosen. Dragons and Snakes.  
"I believe it rather makes you look like a Dragon."  
"Really?!" and the sound was too loud to be considered still a whisper.  
Again, Narcissa looked at him with a displeased frown, and little Charlie swore to himself he wouldn't do it anymore as Narcissa's frown melted into a small smile again.  
"Indeed. Hair bright as fire, blue eyes and freckles like scales. Strikingly Dragonesque."  
Little Charlie was overjoyed! A Dragon! that was so awesome. Wait until he told Mum.  
  
Then, the nice lady winced for a second and touched her tummy. He might've never noticed had he not seen Mum do it many times before.  
"Are you going to have a baby?" he blurted out. Narcissa looked surprised.  
"I am."  
"I have two baby brothers, they look the same. But you're tummy doesn't look as big as Mum's did then."  
"As far as the Healers can tell, I am only having one baby, a little boy like you." There was a nice warmth in the lady's voice. He liked hearing her voice.  
  
"I'm not little anymore, but it's still pretty cool."  
He hesitated. He'd had an idea, but maybe Narcissa wouldn't like it, and he _really_ wanted her to like him.  
"What is it, Charles?" Somehow, it was the first time little Charlie heard his full name being called without a reprimand close at hand. That's why he never liked being called Charles, but somehow it now made him feel bigger and cooler.  
"I can tell there is something on your mind."  
"Well, um, sorry! No ums-"  
Narcissa gave a tiny, musical laugh that she quickly smothered. "Correct."  
Little Charlie beamed. "Thanks! So," he'd thought carefully about his words so as to not 'um' anymore, "can your baby be a Dragon like me?"  
  
Hastily, he explained. "See, my books," and he pointed proudly at himself, to show Narcissa he was a smart boy and read, "say there are very few Dragons, and that they're really, really old. So I think I would get really bored and no Dragons would want to play with me. Then, maybe, your baby could be my Dragon partner. I'll take care of him, of course, because he will be tiny and I'm big now, and the books say Dragons are very protectf-protecta-"  
"Protective, you might mean?" Little Charles blushed.  
"Yes, sorry. So Dragons are very- protective," he enunciated carefully, "of their partner Dragons."  
He looked at her hopefully. Desperately.    
  
Narcissa looked pretty surprised. "I- that is-"  
"Please! I promise I will take really good care of him. Like I'm really really careful with Fred and George because they are… fragile! babies. We can play Dragon games and I'll make sure he never hits his head or fall down. Fred and George have freckles too, but they're not Dragons," little Charlie pouted something a tad heartbreaking, "I'm the only Dragon in my family."  
"Tell me something first, though, Charles."  
"Charles?" Curiosity always won, after all.  
"Is it not your name?"  
"Yeah," little Charlie wrinkled his nose, "but that's what Mum calls me when I leave my room messy or stay reading after bedtime."  
  
Narcissa frowned for a second and it was her turn to wrinkle her nose in distaste. Little Charlie was afraid that maybe she hated messy kids, but before he could defend himself, she spoke with a voice that held an inkling of disapproval. "I do not know why your- _Mum_ , would not make use of your name. It is most definitely the name of a proper Dragon Wizard. You should never shy away from your name." A pause. "I apologise for my bluntness." She looked contrite for a half second. He didn't like it when Narcissa frowned, so he reassured her hastily.     
"I like it when you call me Charles. You don't sound like you'll send me to bed without dessert." This time, Narcissa muffled a shocked giggle a bit louder than before. Little Charlie wondered if she was embarrassed of laughing. He liked laughing, and it made him feel happy that she laughed too, and they could be friends again. After all, he had a plan.    
  
"Charles, let me ask you then. If my baby was a Dragon, why did you say he would be your partner? Not your brother, or friend."  
"Is that bad? Did I offend you? I didn't mean to, I swear!"  
"No, no, believe me when I say you did not, in fact, offend me in any way. Would you tell me, though, why partners?"  
"Well, Bill- my big brother, said that brother is family, and the Baby wouldn't be my family, but he _would_ be my Dragon family. But I don't want my brothers to get sad or jealous that I have a Dragon family."  
"I see, and why not a friend?"  
"I-" Little Charlie faltered. He felt like huge thoughts were squeezing into his head.  
"I don't know," he hung his head, "I don't think we will be friends. Don't look sad!" He was definitely fumbling now, a feeling like panic gripping his small chest; why were thoughts so complicated! He made a frustrated noise.  
"I mean, we would be the only two Dragons, me and Baby-"  
"Baby and I." Little Charlie looked sheepish,  
"- yeah, Baby and I, and of course we would go on super amazing adventures all the time, and fly across all of the oceans. Bill says that's what partners are. Not like Mum and Dad, but two persons- people, that love each other and go on adventures for all their lifes." A hesitant pause. "lives?"    
To his relief, Narcissa nodded in approval. Yes! "This Bill sounds like a smart young man."  
"He is! and he's really tall."  
  
Narcissa suddenly looked serious and sad and even angry and little Charlie bit his lip, but something told him she was thinking of something else. Or someone.  
"Would you really love my son, Charles?"  
"Of course! Dragon partners love each other so they protect the other and bring them food. And lay eggs. Why are you laughing?" His tone was as indignant as a child his age could manage.  
"You are aware that you are not actually capable of laying eggs, I expect?"  
"I'm not a baby. It's just- my book said- well it doesn't matter."  
Narcissa looked at him expectantly, and little Charlie's voice went shy and quiet.  
"Bill says only Mums can have a tummy like you and my Mum have. So to be a Dad you need to have a Mum partner. Bill says I'll get it when I'm older, but I think girls are disgusting- not you, because you smell nice and you're tall and pretty. What I mean is, we don't _have_ to have eggs to go on Dragon adventures and still be partners; the books say that even without them… What's important is to have adventures!" He giggled nervously. He felt confused.  
  
There was a long pause and the nice lady was staring at him until he felt really tiny. However, she looked to the side- he didn't see anything when he followed her gaze- and straightened up. All of a sudden, she looked infinitely further away.  
"I- I do regret it, Charles, believe me. It does sound as though they would be marvelous adventures. However, my child can never be a Dragon like you are." She genuinely sounded regretful.  
"It's okay if he doesn't have to have freckles or red hair! I have a lot of books, I can find a Dragon for him to be." He bent and scrambled to grab one of his books. Narcissa kept looking to the side, then turned sharply to little Charlie.  
"Charles." In a second, she was an adult and he was a kid, and he felt dizzy and confused and hurt and sad. There was warmth in her voice when she spoke, though.  
"I am afraid that right now it is simply not possible. However, if the day ever comes-" and she suddenly looked extremely earnest, like this was something of dearest relevance. "If the day comes, you should go on adventures, far away, across every single ocean. Would you like that?"  
  
Somehow, it felt like a promise. Little Charlie was sure he was now part of something big and important. Though he couldn't understand the whole of it, his tummy told him it was right and good, and he felt excited. He would love that Dragon, and have fun and adventures. And not lay eggs. He was not going to be  alone anymore.  
"Yes! and don't worry. I'm very, very, very sure that Baby will be a Dragon. He will. I promise, okay?"  
A sharp voice called out her name. Little Charlie glared as he glimpsed at the mean-looking man and his mean-looking face.  
"We shall see. Farewell, young Dragon."  
And Narcissa was finally smiling a soft, true smile.    
  


* * *

  
  
  
"Bloody basin."  
  
It was the first thing that came out of his mouth. It was tradition in pureblood funerals to have a basin like this one, embedded with old magic that allowed the memory to retain some of its owner's thoughts and feelings. Attendees would show their respects this way, sharing a dear memory they held of the deceased to the mourning family member of their choosing, imbued with feelings as a show of sincerity and an offer of comfort.  
Draco had tried really hard not to recoil from the gifts he'd received until now. Tea parties, social gatherings, all full of awe and appreciation for Mother's grace and understated beauty, her will and silent power. Once, admiration for her subtle manipulations and sharp wit, which Draco had enjoyed more.  
It was all nice and kind, but the truth was that he already knew this side of Mother: flawless poise, always the correct choice of words, the right timing, the perfect balance between silent grace and force to be reckoned with.  
  
This, however. This memory that Charles, a _Weasley,_ was sharing with him. It was painfully real, Mother's clear display of compassion, gentleness; affection. In the unflattering light of the library, even with the unavoidable tinge of memory, Narcissa Malfoy had been heart-wrenchingly beautiful and kind, and she'd loved Draco fiercely since the womb.  
Her child, a Dragon.  
A Dragon.  
  
_'My child can never be a Dragon like you are.'_   That's what Mother had said, and yet…  
  
_We shall see._  
_We shall see… we shall see._  
  
_You should go on adventures, far away…_  
_'… wondered if she was embarrassed of laughing.'_  
_'Would you really love…'_  
_Across every single ocean…_  
_… why partners?_  
  
_If the day comes…_  
_'I promise, okay?'_  
_You should never shy away from your name._  
_You should never shy away from your name._  
_You should never shy away from your name._  
_Your name…_  
  
_Draco. Dragon._  
_'Can your baby be a Dragon?'_  
_Never shy away from your name._  
  
  
"Charles." He startled both himself and Weasley, who was clearly trying to give him space while staring awkwardly all around the garden. Draco didn't know he was going to speak, so know he didn't know what to say.  
Charlie looked at him with feverish eyes, and the one word he uttered seemed like the last piece of the puzzle. It was shattering, it was too heavy and falling all around him.  
"Draco."  
Draco. Dragon. Shit. There was something huge and powerful lodged in his throat, and he was hanging on to his composure by mere threads.  
"Are you not the Weasley that lives in Romania?" And he remembered something as he felt his eyes go round.  
"Yes. I- I'm a-"  
"Dragon Keeper. You work-"  
"Dragons, yeah. I work with Dragons."  
"Dragons."  
"Dragons."  
They both stared. Draco took in this Weasley's appearance under a whole new light. Worn-out, heavy boots screamed 'out of place' in the middle of the Malfoy garden, rich and green and blossoming; thankfully, just about everyone had already left. Charlie wore plain trousers and a plain black dress shirt, fitted for comfort but passable for such an occasion- and what an occasion. He was covered in even more freckles than in the memory, probably caused by the amount of time he spent under the sun, as his generously tanned skin suggested. His hair wasn't the usual garish orange colour that the rest of the Weasleys- except maybe the Girl Weasley, seemed to favour. It was a shock of red that bled all over slightly curled hair that framed a strong face and deep blue eyes; they acted as a counterpoint to Charlie's whole stance. He was broad-shouldered and not quite tall, with strong and muscular arms exposed by short sleeves. Said arms were littered in scars of varying sizes. Burn marks that shone in the cold light of the sun.  
Draco gulped. Mother had been right.    
Charlie Weasley was a Dragon.  
  
_'Can your baby be a Dragon like me?'_  
_Your name…_  
_We shall see._  
  
      Weasley's intense stare was making him feel bare, so he glared lightly until he softened his gaze, giving a tiny apologetic smile. Draco nodded, acknowledging he had done much the same thing. His chest felt tight with emotion now that the shock was wearing off. His eyes strayed once more to the Dragon in front of him, gently letting him set the pace of… whatever it was that he was sharing with this man, this Dragon. Draco. His thoughts drifted back to his dearest mother.  
Draco never had many chances of seeing this side of her, and he'd cherished every single moment like water to a thirsty man. Charlie would never understand how huge a gift he'd given him, the warmth that had filled his heart. His lovely, wonderful mother. Mother in her truest form, the one he'd have done anything for; the same one that had broken his heart when she'd gone. That was the Mother he grieved for, the one in little Charlie Weasley's memory.     
"Can I-" Draco cleared his throat and cursed the shyness in his voice. "Would you allow me to see Mother, your memory, once more?"  
Charlie's answering smile was brilliant, and Draco was completely unprepared for the lack of pity, the joy and the solemnity contained in it.  
"You can have it. I- well, an old lady at the Reserve knew an old spell that can duplicate memories. I…" Charlie looked a little embarrassed and it caught Draco's attention. It seemed he was about to uncover an important piece of this puzzle. Maybe he'd find out why he felt so terrifyingly drawn to this man. Maybe he wouldn't, and maybe that would be better.  
"Narcissa, your mother, she's the reason I'm a Dragon Keeper. Afterwards, and for the longest time, I was convinced she'd been an angel coming to ease my mind. I- I always felt different to my family, and I was sure this was a sign that it was okay, that I could be what I was meant to be, and that I was not the only one…"  
Charlie's voice came in a rush, and he was pleading with his eyes, pleading with Draco to understand.  
"What do you- oh." He felt a tingle run all the way down his spine. "Me."  
Suddenly, Charlie sat down carelessly on the ground, as though his legs had given out under him. His eyes asked permission and forgiveness at the same time, the quick look towards the entrance to Mother's mausoleum and back to him told him all he needed to know. It was also an invitation, and Draco accepted. Now aware of his trembling limbs, he sat carefully in front of Charlie, matching his crossed legs; perhaps they were slightly too close to one another, but the moment demanded nothing less.  
  
_'If the day comes,_  
_you should go on adventures'_  
  
      Draco focused on Charlie, who swallowed and continued, alternating between staring at him and at the place Mother rested. It was as though, by sitting right beside her, they were including her in this occasion. It felt painfully right, and also painful.  
"You. Anyways, I simply couldn't bear to part with this, with _her_ memory. As I grew, I came to understand what had actually happened. I figured out she was a Malfoy, and learned of our family's hatred for one another, heard so many awful things about all of you, especially Lucius," Draco flinched, "but I could never wholly get in line with it. Well, your father, he- I'm sorry, I-"  
"Do not apologise," there was no inflection in Draco's voice, just the truth, "I love Father, but I am able to separate my feelings from his utterly- from his actions. Do not fret, Charles." Once again he was treated to impossibly wide blue eyes, but now Draco could give it the meaning it deserved. Could feel the weight, the slight desperation, the fire in a Dragon's charged gaze. Charles.  
"The name does quite fit a proper pureblooded Wizard, which I suspect you know is what Mother was referring to," and just because he could, he added, "Charles." He did enjoy the confused heat in the Weasley's eyes.  
  
"Narcissa's the only one who's managed to make my name sound like something other that admonishment. Well, until now." He narrowed his deep eyes at Draco briefly, showing he knew Draco had called his name on purpose. "Your voice, or at least the way you pronounce my- my _real_ name… I like it." He was blushing, and Draco would've reacted but he was blushing a bit too. Then, Charlie smiled cheekily at him and his voice was intense. "Dragon." Thank Merlin he had sat down, Charlie's voice had made him feel nauseous and dizzy, in a completely not wrong way.  
  
Charlie sighed. "So, as I was saying before, your mother's gesture got me through some rough times when I was a kid, and then a couple of times later in life. I- when I heard she'd passed, I couldn't not come. It was as if…" Charlie drifted off, searching for words.  
"The day had come." Draco spoke slowly. Heavily.  
" _'If the day ever comes'_ ", Charlie recalled slowly. He swallowed.  
"We can watch it again, together I mean, if you'd like to."  
Draco couldn't help the soft smile even if he'd wanted to, and reveled at the way Charlie had stared fixedly. He'd been told before he had Mother's smile.  
  
_'Farewell, young Dragon'_  
  
"I would like that."  
  
_______________________________________________...  
  
  
      When they came out of the Pensieve, something had broken and shifted. They had spoken softly for a while about nothing of real importance, until it had gone too dark outside for it to be reasonable any longer.  
"I guess I should get going."  
"You would not want to cause your family worry."  
None of them could hide their disappointment, their curiosity. They both wanted to know more.  
"I wouldn't, no."  
"Maybe-", "What if-" They both spoke at the same time, and Draco regained his wits first.  
"Go on." He'd regained his wits, not his bearings.  
"I- What if- Could I maybe come back here sometime? To pay my respects to Narcissa," Charlie was staring intently at his shuffling feet now, "or just to, you know, talk. With you, I mean, if you want to. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can- I get it, you know? What I-"  
"I could manage that," Draco interrupted, "perhaps you could talk to me about Dragons? I could maybe tell you about Mother, if you wou-."  
"I'd love that!"  
Draco was glad he'd somehow resisted the urge to look at his shoes, as it allowed him to appreciate Charlie's bright, honest smile.  
"It is settled then. Shall we owl on the meanwhile? I have been allowed by the Headmaster to spend my weekends here for the time being, but I must remain at school during the weekdays."  
Charlie nodded enthusiastically. Draco walked him to the front of the Manor, where they bid each other farewell slowly, awkwardly. Most unwillingly.  
  
"Charles." Draco blurted out, just as he'd been about to close the gates. Charlie turned to look at him, curious and a little bit scared. Had Draco changed his mind?  
"I- thank you, Charles. Truly, thank you. You have brought me unimaginable joy and I will forever be grateful, no matter what happens."  
Charlie hoped he'd managed to recover from the tightness in his chest fast enough for Draco to see his stupid, gigantic smile before he disappeared under the enchantments of the Malfoy Manor's gates. He rushed home, deflected Mum's questions and his brother's ribbing ('Where did you go so smartly dressed?' Percy; 'Smart, but you look all rumpled now, huh?' Bill; 'Will you finally be bringing someone home?' and that last one had been Mum.), and curled up on his bed, chewing a quill as he thought of what to write to the fascinating young Dragon.  
  
_'… far away, across every single ocean._  
_Would you like that?'_  
  
Charlie smiled. Of course he would.  
  
_______________________________________________...  
  
  
      Draco walked back towards Mother at a measured pace, deep in thought.  
He wanted to get to know Charles Weasley, he was deeply intrigued by the man that could hold Mother's attention like that, even as a child. A man who would travel across countries in the middle of the work-year to pay his respects to a woman he'd met just once. A Dragon who'd held on dearly to a gorgeous memory of Mother, and find a way to _give it_ for him to keep; someone who's life Mother had most definitely touched and even influenced, all because of a book.  
  
Charles Weasley was a Dragon, and so was he, and thanks to the other man he could now be sure of it. Now he knew _Mother_ was sure of it.  
Dragons were lonely, deeply misunderstood creatures; feared unconditionally, Dragons were too different from humans and animals alike, too big, too dangerous. Dragons paid no heed, even slept, but rose to defend what was theirs at whatever cost.  
Dragons were majestic, graceful and immensely powerful creatures. Alone they dwelled and loved but few, fiercely.  
Yes, he'd always been a Dragon. He'd been taught to be a coward, to hide behind his family's past glories, but he had learned. Sorted into Ravenclaw, he was forced to defend himself for himself, not in terms of his surname. Not when he'd almost lost his right to it by Father's furious, disappointed hands. He stood up as Draco because no one else would. Potter had, eventually, and he'd even apologised for being rude on the train ride. _That_ had greatly improved his odds of surviving the Great Hall. They weren't friends, though not for lack of trying on Potter's side; Draco just couldn't deal with the amount of emotions and mood swings Harry Potter was packing. His own problems were more than enough.  
  
     Back to the present, Draco arranged the bouquets under the roof of the mausoleum, as drops of rain were already starting to fall. He'd given Mother's resting place one last lingering look before rushing inside to escape the weather.  
He took a long, warm shower, and asked Bippy for tea. Bippy was the only House Elf still working at the Manor. Draco had freed them a few hours after Mother's passing. He wasn't the Malfoy family Head on parchment, but he was in all the other ways that mattered; he wasn't going to keep the Manor. Any of it. He couldn't, not without Mother. Mother was the life, the real mistress of Malfoy Manor; without her, it meant nothing. Lots of things did.  
  
So he'd freed every House Elf, but Bippy remained. She refused to leave, and after a surprisingly candid discussion, she'd stated that she was a Free Elf, and in her freedom she'd decided to look after Draco as Mistress Narcissa would've wanted her to.  
"I is being there to help Young Master Draco since he is being a boy. Young Master is always being nice to Bippy, though we is keeping it always secret from Master Lucius. So, Bippy is staying, if Young Master is allowing it." She'd said that in a tone that held no chance of being a request or an option. So she'd stayed, and Draco adored her for it. As a Free Elf, Bippy could be herself and she no longer self-punished. As such, he thanked her warmly when she'd brought around a platter with tea and biscuits. And a letter.  
At his confused look, it was quite late for correspondence, Bippy explained that an Owl had just arrived, soaking wet and was resting in the Malfoy Owlery, and that it had been sent from somewhere named "Burrow". Oh. Charles.  
He smiled and open the letter excitedly, feeling a little childish but enjoying the feeling too much to be bothered. There was only Bippy to witness and she'd known him since he was toddler. She'd seen so much worse.  
  
  
'Dear Draco,  
  
I apologise if this letter finds you at too late an hour, I guess I  
just wanted to thank you. For allowing me into your home and  
giving me a chance even when all you knew of me was that I  
was a Weasley, which I know isn't much of a reason to invite  
me in. Thank you for accepting without judgment my reasons  
for going, even if I can admit they sound a little crazy.  
  
I'm sorry if it bothers you that I'm being so forward. I'm so sure  
this will sound creepy- creepier than the rest of the letter, if  
it's even possible, but I swear I felt your mother's presence at  
times while we were talking. Like she was there with us. Well,  
it didn't help that you have such similar gestures. I hope I didn't  
scare you away or upset you.  
  
I've never met another Dragon before, and keep in mind I've  
been waiting to meet you since I was a child. Merlin, I'm such a  
creep, I'm sorry.  
  
Attached to the letter is a parchment with a sketch and basic  
profile of the Dragon I thought you could be when I was younger.  
I confess I used to carry around a page just like that one all the  
time in my pocket, in case I ever saw Narcissa again. This way,  
I'd be ready to convince her that you could be a Dragon even if  
you never had a single freckle.  
  
Non-creepily yours,  
Charlie.'     
  
  
      Draco threw his head back and laughed as he hadn't done in ages, much less now that Mother was gone. He grabbed a quill and fresh parchment, but his eyes felt heavy as exhaustion caught up to him. The funeral had been draining, the last days had been devastating, and yet Charles had managed to keep him the whole afternoon far away from dark thoughts while thinking of Mother all the same. He carefully folded the letter and put it back inside the envelope as he made his way to his dormitory. He placed the letter with utmost gentleness, almost fondness, on top of his bedside table. He'd wait until the morning so he could appreciate fully what Charles had sent him.  
Draco felt Mother's memory wrapped tight and warm all around him, and as he succumbed to sleep, he silently thanked Merlin once more for Charles Weasley, the Dragon.    
  
_'Would you really love my son, Charles?'_  
_'…will be a Dragon. He will. I promise, okay?'_  
_If the day comes…_  
  
He thanked Mother for Charlie Weasley.

**Author's Note:**

> \- If I start thinking about timelines, this fic would have 5 million words. I apologise if I've butchered HP time-space.  
> \- Draco is Ravenclaw and that's why he's OOC, imo of course. He's been rejected as a Slytherin and grown in Ravenclaw for 5 years now. Plus, it's his mother's funeral. And Charlie's given him one hell of a gift. I'm sorry anyways.  
> \- Lucius went to Azkaban... for reasons. I'm not even sure Voldemort is up and running in this verse. Again, 5 million words.  
> \- University won't leave me alone, and my computer is full of single, unfinished scenes that have the length to be stand-alone fics. I suck. So, even if I have a couple of continuation scenes to this, I'm marking the fic as complete until then, so my failure won't be as noticeable as the last.  
> \- Unbeta'ed. So any mistakes, please let me know.  
> \- Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it <3


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